Horizon Sky
by Captain Isis
Summary: Loki gets into trouble after his return to Asgard with Thor. All of Asgard does. Now it's up to Jane Foster to figure out what the hell is going on up there, and to stop its destruction from a new enemy- with a little help from the god of lies. M for mischief and later content. Art: marla-rose. tumblr. com OH NO ITS ON HIATUS
1. Chapter I

_AN: So I was originally going to name this story Murphy's Laws Applied to Loki ('cause everything that can go wrong for him will), but then I was like no- this title is way better in one aspect which will be revealed to the reader later in the story! Hope you enjoy. I'm thinking this will be one of those shorter ones that's only like 60,000 words long. K? K._

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It was the only one left. In all Jane's fervor and search, tearing her trailer apart, the silver metal in her hand was the last of its kind. That was clean, anyway.

"Damn it…" Jane inspected the spoon, cursing herself for procrastinating so long that her chores were beyond control. She was practically on her last pair of jeans, last suitable tank top, and out of towels. The mountainous horde of laundry was piled and tucked away; out of sight, out of mind. Until she needed more clothes. But that's what happens when a person has been living in the desert for two weeks.

Her research brought her deeper into the New Mexico desert, and she'd been cataloging disturbances or weather phenomena. In the more recent months, she felt like it was more of an obligation than a search for the Asgardian. An obligation to her need for knowledge. Over and over she would tell herself that if Thor did come back for her, she would insist upon visiting Asgard. Yet, as months dragged by and Loki invaded Earth, she began to seriously doubt his return for her.

Previously, every rumble of thunder ran her eyes to the sky. But now that she had grown tired of waiting, she would find an umbrella. Or try to.

So, she was down to a spoon. The cupboards were running low on MRE's, as well. Cereal it is, Jane decided. Cereal early in the morning or late at night, depending on what the actual time was. Truthfully, she had no idea, but it was pitch black outside. There would be no milk as it was a nonessential, plus it wouldn't keep well in the desert. Jane poured out the Apple Jacks into her second to last bowl, reminding herself she needs to head back to town for supplies. She grabbed the near empty bag of Fritos and plopped on her bed.

As humdrum as her life may have seemed, she was, by her own account, content. All days and nights were spent registering data, pouring over old notes and new, aching for the infrequent turbulent weather. She was about fifty miles from any civilization, and while others would consider her lonely, she didn't need company. Alone, not lonely. Though she did miss her talks with Erik and Darcy, both of whom were busy; Erik off to a conference in Bulgaria, and Darcy back to school.

Tired of listening to nothing, Jane placed down her food and turned on her stereo. It was an ancient boom box that played either CD's or cassette tapes. Of all things, she popped in a CD: a classic rock mix. Choosing between Heat of the Moment and Don't Stop Believing, she selected the former.

She didn't return to her meal, rather she sang along with the booming techno:

"I never meant to be so bad to you!" She hadn't thought of how ridiculous she sounded or looked. That or she didn't care, "One thing I said that I would never do!"

In the 'heat of the moment', she was startled by a pounding on her trailer door. She had yelped, if only a little, and lowered the volume of the blaring music. Her mind flipped as she came across the possibility that it might be Erik or Darcy, paying her a visit. Her stomach dropped when she considered it would be Thor. Had it been Thor, she would have known; her machine was calibrated to beep at any disturbance or phenomenon. Fearing it would be some lunatic intent on murdering her, she stuck her folding knife in the back pocket of her jeans.

Yet, when she opened the door, the man facing her was none of those- although it could be argued he was a lunatic intent on murder. But, no, it was Loki, god of mischief, lies, deceit. Asgardian set on controlling the world and betraying his family. Man who was supposed to be locked away as a prisoner in Asgard. Defying all that, he was there. In front of her very eyes, not to mention stark naked and hunched over.

The dark haired murderer panted heavily, gripping his side. Jane had only been staring at him for one second when he squinted his eyes and heaved out a confused question, "You?" Then he crumpled in her doorway.

Jane was shocked. She was bombarded with bewilderment and questions. She looked down at the bare Loki in mystification, wondering why the hell he was there. Before any action could be done, there was no doubt in her mind that the lump blocking her door should be moved.

His body was heavy and Jane had not the strength to lift him on her shoulder from the position he was laid. Resolving and summoning her muscles to work, she dragged him inside. His back was scuffed on her inside doormat, smearing low levels of dust and dirt into his skin.

Once inside the trailer, she needed to do something about his nudity. Jane averted her eyes as she wrapped a blanket into a skirt around Loki's waist. This was not a moment she would be fond to remember, nor a moment she would tell to her friends- or rather Darcy and Erik.

The issue addressed, Jane was able to hoist Loki up and hang him half off her bed. During her escapade she was grunting and swearing, and was in a constant state of worry that Loki would wake and kill her. Nonetheless, she maneuvered him onto her bed, only banging his head twice off the bedframe. Upon the first impact, Loki had groaned causing Jane to jolt and drop him, causing his second impact with the frame.

Loki looked dead. The only reason Jane knew he was alive was he was still breathing and bleeding. There was a wound; the rigidity of it proposed the cause was a sword or a spear. Not a hammer, Jane made a point of noting.

This brought her to a dilemma: should she save him? It would be an easy motion to unfold her knife and stick it in his head or slit his throat, but she contemplated if it was really her place to decide. Her questioning only led her to argue that he had no place killing and betraying, either. He also put Erik in harm's way. Would she be doing, not only her world, but all the worlds a favor by ending Loki's life? Was this monster even worthy of life?

Slowly, she incited the action to remove the knife from her pocket. The blade pressed against his head by its tip, but not enough force was issued to puncture or assassinate. Adrenaline leaked into her veins, poisoning her system. A voice called to her, "_Do it, do it!_" The voice of chaos, she named it. The voice that would drive her to kill.

But then, she saw it. Like a tiny lake, resting next to his eye. Tears. Tears of the devil, tears of a god; tears of a man. From this a thought was so deeply provoked in Jane, she wavered. Monsters did not cry. They did not shed tears of sadness or grief or pain. Monsters laughed, evilly and coolly like it's what they wanted all along. Like deep in their veins they craved all the sadness that a soul could bear. In this moment of Loki's vulnerability, Jane was stopped by his lonely puddle of tears.

They might have been mustered by knocking him on the head, or the seeping wound severing his skin. Whatever it was, it was enough to stay Jane's hand. She did so out of pity or sympathy, or both.

A being that knew all that was, is, and to be would say she does not know the weight or consequences her actions may hold, but she does. Jane Foster knows that one life can bring joy, destruction, the end of things- she knows this. She respects and savors the form that life brings, and she knows she cannot take Loki's.

Jane sighed a heavy disappointed spout of air, but it was no louder than a light breath. She folded the knife, no longer considering the act of murdering a murderer. The space around her remained the same, the clothes she wore were still hers, and she was determined to remain unchanged by the evil god's presence.

Alas, Loki being a powerful evil god who tried to destroy all that was good had disadvantages. Particularly the 'powerful' and 'evil' parts. It wouldn't do to simply leave him free to kill something. Jane owned no magical chains or a special prison to restrain the god.

Under her fingers' force the closet door slid open, creaking. Towels and worn jeans lurched from within the small confines and traveled over the floor. Jane waded through the mess, promising herself to clean it up later. Reaching her destination, she took four scarves from the hangers. Guessing it was the fatuous plan she ever made was accurate.

Her favorite scarf, colored with the green of granny smith apples mashed with taupe grey, secured his ankles. Its elasticity proved difficult to work with as binding, but using a second scarf to hold it together helped. For his wrists she wove two cotton-polyester blend boas into the head board. Wires may have been more effective, but Jane didn't want to sacrifice her equipment.

Loki was as secure as she'd ever get him with scarves. High time she inspected his wound. Jane inched closer to his uncovered chest with a wet bandana she warmed in her microwave. Her head shook in disbelief, "I'm actually doing this," she said to herself, knowing no ear could hear, "I'm _actually_ doing this, I'm actually saving Loki. I am crazy." She concluded as she made contact with his broken skin. Gentle mops of the bandana soaked up and cleaned dry blood. The flow of blood became immobile as she dabbed the hurt away.

White bandages retrieved from the first aid kit were difficult to apply. Jane had been so eager to restrain Loki that she hadn't counted on wrapping a bandage around him. She had to lower his makeshift skirt, much to her dismay, but she soldiered on. Loki was taken care of.

She needed help, but who to call? It's not like she had Thor or the Avengers on speed dial. Erik and Darcy were the only people she had. Knowing Erik was a world away, Jane hoped she could count on Darcy for assistance.

Darcy's phone rang.

And rang.

And rang.

Jane huffed, thoroughly annoyed, and hung up without leaving a message after the tone. Maybe Erik would answer.

"Hello," It was his voice.

"Erik!" Jane exclaimed, only half believing her own story. She was glad to talk to a friend, but her optimism was defeated when the automated message continued.

"I'm not at my phone right now, but leave a message and I'll get back to you."

_Beep._

"Um, hey Erik, it's Jane." She started, voice shaking from anticipation, "you would not believe who's passed out in my bed right now." She stuttered her following words, realizing how bad her sentence sounded, "It's Loki! From Asgard." She said with fake excitement, "You know, the one who tried to destroy Earth and that's supposed to be in prison. He's in my trailer. I don't really know what to do-"

But the recording cut her off when her time was up. She finished, "So call me back." Even though Erik would never hear the words. When her phone flipped shut, she turned to Loki. He was sweating and this concerned her. Since when do gods run fevers?

Pressing her hand against his temple, his temperature burned. He groaned, and Jane grabbed up a water bottle. She had plenty of water. Jane was no nurse, but she had minimal understanding of sickness. He needed fluids.

If only he would swallow. It wasn't difficult to swallow water. Jane watched as the water sputtered out from his lips, soaking her mattress. His gurgles were unsatisfactory. She clamped his nose shut and shoved the neck of the water bottle into his mouth. Loki's blazing green eyes shot open as he choked on the liquid. He struggled in fury when he realized he was drowning. Jane continued, no real expression on her face but frustration. Holding down and force feeding water to Loki was a deviating task that she never considered doing.

"Hold still!" She finally commanded after seven seconds of thrashing. It took nine seconds more for him to comply, having no other choice than to drink the water. She removed the bottle from his lips and he was comatose without another word.

Jane knew it would be a long night.

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_AN: Told ya shit happens to Loki, but this is only the beginning. Review, tell me if I made any grammatical errors, or if you just like it. Or don't. Doesn't take to long to say something. So go on. Say it._


	2. Chapter II

_AN: When I uploaded the first chapter, that was at 3 a.m. this morning. I had conceived, written and posted the chapter all within one hour, so forgive me if it isn't my A-game. The words had been fueled by Mt. Dew and leftover ice cream cake. This chapter should be better._

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Pain rippled, like a stone dropping into the water from a harsh height. It swirled, outcropping from its origin, spreading the venom of poison under his skin. His body was paralyzed; stiff and lifeless with no notion of understanding movement. Discomfort extended the boundaries. It swam to his head, infecting his mind with agony. He lost control of himself thus spilling tears he never meant.

Loki thought he was dead. He wondered if ongoing suffering was his afterlife. He knew he deserved at least a form of punishment for his 'crimes'. The murder. The betrayal.

His senses had abandoned him to the vastness of nothing. Impossibly, there was no darkness; there was nothing. The state of nothing is not darkness, it is not light. Nothing exists on the border of inexistence. Nothing is the sixth sense. It is the void where black holes and paradoxes are formed. It is the end, the beginning; the first breath and the last.

The poison afflicting Loki was stronger than he conceived. His memories prior to his wound overlapped with his childhood. All at once, Thor was older when he was playing imaginary, donned in full battle armor. Odin had two eyes when his blood rolled on the floor. Frigga was crying out to Loki as she sung him to sleep. Thor was only a boy when he was beaten by the enemy.

The arduous journey of piecing together his memories survived outside his reach. Loki was incapable to travel that road while he was strained to retain his sense of being. The only incidence he could clearly recall was landing in Midgard. He crashed in the desert, knowing so by the sand biting his skin. The cold surprised him once he named the climate. It was nighttime when he landed. Any thought before the icy air and heated sand was foggy.

Then his eyes showed _her_. How fateful that he land in the very desert that Thor's pet was living. Loki forgot why he approached her trailer or why he banged on the door. It was unlike him to put his life in the hands and kindness of strangers. Much less _Midgardians_.

His shock detained him to the craggy question, "You?" Subsequently, he passed into the oblivion of his mind. He wandered it, not truly walking but still moving through the veils that parted each dimension of unknown. Loki was lost with only the pain and the face of a mortal to cling to. His sense of time receded with everything else.

But his hearing defied the rule of nothing. A terrible racket of voices plunged into his head and tormented his soul:

"_It was the heat of the moment,_

_Telling me what your heart meant,_

_The heat of the moment showed in your eyes-"_

He groaned from the pitiful thing Midgardians called a song. These creatures had no sense of rhythm or beat.

The torture went unfinished because two sharp jolts cracked his head and sent him farther into the world of inexistence. He was relieved, even though the pain increased substantially, that he no longer had to endure the wailing mortals and their idiotic lyrics.

Silence was initiated once more, but after the drawn out seconds Loki did his best to ignore it. Loki quickly learned it was hopeless not to listen to silence. So he caved, giving the silence his whispering mind of thoughts and reactions to delve into. His feelings were explored by this and the silence came to a conclusion; Loki hated himself and he hated everyone else. He was a monster of no remorse, a murderer of innocents, and a man no one could forgive. Everyone else was just as bad as him, but they shrouded it. Somehow he was the truthful while they hid underneath the lies they convinced themselves of. Goodness was only an illusion, one that was shattered to him some time ago.

His stupor of misery was broken when he stopped breathing. Water rushed his throat, but he was determined to forbid any more foreign substance into his body. Hours passed when he struggled with the sensation of drowning became unbearable. He allowed the tsunami into his esophagus. Despite himself, he began feeling better yet worse simultaneously. He felt his fever more, but it was a good omen. He was regaining his senses.

Loki leniently obeyed the swigs of water having them slide through him. Each gulp allocated a sensation; his heartbeat, his hunger. When his awareness started to return, he was grateful that a creature would look after him. Knowing that the creature could possibly be Thor's pet incited a mini skirmish within Loki. The reasoning that he should be thankful for the compassion she showed fought with the assumption all mortals should help their god when in need. But that implicated that he needed her help, and he certainly did _not _need help from _her._ Gods were far superior to Midgardians, and he would not die from a simple poisoned wound.

Loki wished he was dead when his hearing came back.

… … …

Five dreadful songs passed, and the worst was by far Don't Stop Believing. There was no point to that ugly tune. The lyrics repeated the same lines over and over and OVER. Loki contained the admiration he held for himself for maintaining his sanity through the "music".

Another song. It featured the keyboard and a strange guitar with an instrument similar sounding to maracas. Just like the others, but slower. Loki awaited the grotesque man who sang with false pain for the sake of it. But this song was different. The voice was smooth and sweet, flowing with a kind melody through a young girl's tune.

"_Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick,_

_And think of you-"_

He was calmed by this song for its harmony. Loki was oddly drawn to listen as he tolerated the instruments. Another voice joined as the chorus played, most likely Thor's pet. Together, the recording and the pet sung as a duet, and Loki was rather agitated by hearing the mortal Foster sing.

He groaned alive. Accuracy of his sight had dramatically decreased in his decent to reality. Colorful lights relieved his vision from the nothingness, but blocking any view. Loki was stretched recumbently prone, no clothes or coverings. Every molecule, every atom burned within him, dulling his senses again. Pain was the attention hog while it contorted his face to match his mind's reaction. The entry wound flared after testing his strength to push himself off his stomach with bound hands. His muscles buckled and he flopped back onto the bed, serving as an increase to his suffering.

"So you're finally awake." The mortal Foster said, her voice echoing around his head. Loki dazedly lifted his eyelids to see the less-than-imposing girl turn off the only song he liked. She then pulled a folding chair to his bedside. He watched her curiously as she seemed to relax when he was too weak to sit up. He tried to turn to his side, to catch a better angle of her. She pressed her hand against his clammy shoulder, "Please don't."

He complied, the reason being he hadn't wanted to exert what little strength he had left. Instead he looked at his bindings, realizing they were scarves. The cloth wasn't on snug; he could easily slip out, if he had the power.

"You made these past few hours a living hell." The mortal Foster stated blandly.

Loki croaked out, proud of himself, "And I… wasn't even trying."

She was smug. She wasn't allowed to be smug. What did she have to be smug about? Already, Loki was more than preferably agitated by Midgardians. A faint smile licked the mortal's lips, "You peed yourself." Anger rapidly supplanted her smugness, "I had to untie you, strip the bed, wash you, and tie you back up again! I don't even have a shower so I had to do it with water bottles _outside_! Do you know how cold it is out there at night? It's freezing! Then I had to use the last of my bandages to wrap you up again. And now you have nothing to wear!"

Loki studied her. She had courage to yell at him in an outburst like that. He would make sure she'd pay for it later. In the meantime, he decided to play on her sympathy.

She huffed, "I'm not sure if you know me or not, but my name is Jane Foster."

"You don't think I wouldn't know Thor's newest pet?" Loki chuckled at her ignorance. The mortal Foster didn't know much at all. She stiffened at his accusation, obviously sore on the subject. Perfect. He could use that later.

"I'm no one's pet." The mortal Foster defended herself. How cute. Pathetic Midgardians had no idea what true power was even when it was right in front of them. Though he was the god of deceit, he thought to himself that he was the only one telling the truth. She shifted uncomfortably, "I guess we should get going."

Before he could ask where they would be going, the mortal Foster grabbed his tied wrists. He moaned as she turned him supine, then demanded him to "help her out, here" when she began dragging him off the bed. Loki was pulled to his feet and he couldn't stand on his own. The mortal Foster supported his weight, though she obviously struggled.

Loki was too weak to get away from her. His magic was poisoned with his physical self and his consciousness was hanging by a thread. He had no choice to allow or reject her from bringing him to the truck. She shoved him in the back and slammed the door. Loki was unable to see her, but the engine started. Its grumble was deep and warbled accompanied by the size of the truck.

The truck jerked as it initially pulled out. Loki listened to the rocks and dust whiz under the wheels. It was a… different experience to be forced by a Midgardian to do anything. He hated it. He hated her, but he couldn't properly display his feelings in his shape. The first chance he had, he was going to hurt her when she became useless.

The bumps hushed him. The dimming light, due to him closing his eyes, held him like a cradle holds a child. He was glad to see black rather than nothing. Passing again, he traversed into a dark realm much different than oblivion. The path he walked was that of a dream.

Frigga, the mother that was never his, sang. He missed her songs, as he believed them to be the only true music. Loki stood outside a door in the blackness, a crack spilling light through the portal. He touched the door, slowly gliding it open. The rock in his chest heaved as he approached her. Frigga was turned away from him, singing to a crib. Mesmerized by his mother, he bent down, squatting beside her. She didn't look at him, only continued her song.

"Mother…" He left his words to the air. For her, he preserved his final extant supply of compassion. He turned to stone as she looked to him. She was so disappointed, so hurt and betrayed. Loki couldn't turn his head, couldn't look away. The song subsided with her gaze, stinging his heart.

"Help us Loki." Frigga cooed. Her voice was a soft touch, easing his pain. She tenderly pleaded, not without dignity, "Save us, my son."

Loki lacked the ability to break away until he woke, much of the agony flashing back to him. He gasped, in his shock he bolstered his muscles and shot up. The sweat in his eyes eerily resembled tears, but he was called out of thinking by the mortal Foster.

"Good, you're up." She caught his eye in the rearview mirror, "I was just about to get something to eat. Want anything?"

The truck slowed as it towed into a McDonald's. Out a small window, Loki could see nothing but desert and a dirt road. Morals were strange in the placing of their restaurants.

The mortal must have recognized his face of confusion, "Yeah, I know it's a little bit weird to see one of these way out here, but I'm sure it's fine." She was the one who didn't seem so sure.

Loki could bear the pain. It was possible that his mother had taken a portion of it. The doubtful side of him assumed that Frigga must have thought Loki would feel indebted, but he knew better. He loved her, as well.

Since his strength was returning, he undid Foster's lazy attempt to restrain him. Free of bonds, he was about to climb into the passenger seat when the mortal Foster pushed him back, griping, "Don't get in the front seat! You're naked!"

He settled for leaning against a boxed up machine. Up to speaking, he commanded the mortal, "Tell me where you're taking me."

She glanced in the rearview without answering. Typical of stubborn beings. A mechanism outside her window said something gruffly. The mortal placed an order and edged to the window of the building marked "1".

Immediately, Loki could sense the awry atmosphere. A nasty smell permeated the air in the truck, leaving him listless. The nauseating drift of scent tangled in his nose, and he knew it. Familiar feelings wrought in Loki's mind, swimming for the solution. Then he remembered the owner of the smell. Rock trolls. They must have followed him.

In no condition to fight, he flew to the passenger seat, the mortal hollering at him in refutation. He was saving her life; she should stop making such commotion. Loki had no time as the cashier approached the window. The mortal was awestruck in shock of the troll's appearance. Loki reacted faster than she when the troll screeched at them. He slammed his bare foot on the mortal's stationary shoe and the troll was bombarded with dust from the kickback.

The fast food restaurant was an illusion. A distraction to lure him and the mortal in, with a few extra snacks beforehand. The trolls had to have followed his trail-

"What the hell was _that_!" Foster shrieked. Loki didn't have time for petty emotions like mortal fear. They had to escape.

He replied, nonetheless, "Rock troll. They must have followed me."

"They were inside a McDonald's!" She tried to look back without compromising the driving.

"That was an illusion. You mortals are easily fooled by it." He was shoved off her foot when she resumed complete control of her vehicle. Trolls weren't fast, but their car was dragging a trailer. He alerted her, "You have to disconnect the towage or they'll catch us."

"I can't do it while I'm _driving_!" She was very angry with him. He could understand. With the help of adrenaline, he wobbled to the hatch. The doors wagged in the wind when he released them. Dust blew in his face, irritating his eyes. He leaned forward and safely unlocked the latch connecting the trailer to the hummer. It drifted off behind them, coasting on Foster's ninety mile an hour speed, gradually slowing.

Loki shut the doors as they gained haste. His side had burst; the skin didn't withstand the pressure he put his body in. Blood soaked the once white bandages and his head lightened. The black interior spun along with Foster's words, slurring into one motion. He heard his own body _thunk_ against the floor. The cycle had gone full circle.

He was back to nothingness.

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_AN: Aaannnddd tada! Chapter 2, you lucky dogs, so review! And thanks for reading!_


	3. Chapter III

_AN: Chapter 3! Read on!_

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Hills began to crop up and shadows descended into the valley. Desert melted into mountains hours ago, and mountains turned spun into low valleys and hills. The trees glimmered in the golden dust that painted their leaves from the cowering sun. Daylight began its nocturnal hibernation just as the night slowly dropped its midnight curtain from the sky.

The blue compact car edged on the speed limit. Rust corroded the dinky little machine, but it drove well. Jane borrowed it from a guy she knew in town and traded her truck as collateral. When she had reached her research base, she packed an overnight bag with clean clothes and extra bandages. She dressed Loki in a plain t-shirt and jeans meant for Thor, so they bagged on Loki's smaller frame.

Jane knew she couldn't book plain tickets; if authorities saw Loki, who knows what they'd do to him. A random police officer or detective might've had a friend in New York that passed away. Or worse, they might've had family. If she considered killing him, someone else definitely would. Driving was her best shot at the two of them surviving. After all, if she was caught smuggling the man who tried to rule Earth, the same fate would befall them both.

During her drive, Loki mumbled in his comatose state. Most of his slurred expressions were inaudible, but now and then Jane heard "no" or "stop" or "please". The words tugged on her sympathy and generated more with each plead. He was restlessly sweating and moaning out phrases to inexplicable to hear. The slumped figure in her passenger seat fell rigid around three a.m. when they passed into Eastern Time. Jane herself yawned from the exhaustion of driving eighteen hours. No interaction convinced her mind she was drained, and the car refused CD's. She relied on the radio for support.

The knob fumbled in her hyper caffeinated fingers while she searched for a suitable channel. Various stations broadcasted overplayed pop music, while others focused solely on country. Jane hated country. The twangs of the instruments were short lived for her ears. Finally she stumbled upon FM 97.5 airing hit songs from the 80's. "Time After Time" hummed from her speakers, and Jane retracted her hand to the steering wheel. Upon deciding not to listen to it, she reached out to switch the channels again, but a pallid hand halted her.

Loki's touch zapped with a frigid energy that penetrated her skin. The remainder of his body ignored her, facing the window without stirring. Jane couldn't conceive a simper on his lips nor a mischievous inkling in his voice when he requested, "Let it play." He dropped his hand.

Jane shelved her abrasiveness and took the moment for meaningless conversation. She asked him, with gentle astonishment, "You like Cyndi Lauper?"

"Is she the singer?" He replied coolly.

"Yeah." Jane alternated her view between Loki and the road.

"Then yes. Now shut up and let me listen to the song."

Jane flicked an eyebrow and breathed, "No need to be rude." Loki didn't respond.

Once the melody ended, Loki pressed a button turning off the radio. The air shifted into a statue of silence. Uneven back roads accreted into smoother asphalt of a highway. Minutes stacked up into stretched lonely hours. Six in the morning brought forth the hint of day. Dawn ushered the celestial sphere that wrapped flaming scarlet arms around the sun. The explosion of beauty in the sky mesmerized Jane, but the brightening colors shone directly in her eyes. This summoned need for her sunglasses.

She remembered storing them in their case, which she put in the cup holder. Nothing but empty coffee cups occupied the spaces. After briefly floundering on the floor, a difficult venture while behind the wheel, Jane extended an arm to open the glove box. Loki didn't rouse when she jumbled through the mess of papers and pencils, ultimately grasping her sunglass case. The glove box clicked shut as she nimbly withdrew her arm, careful not to touch the sleeping god. Jane discovered the sunglass case was empty.

"What?" She quietly complained. Where could they have gone?

Immobile confusion forced her eyes to flicker around the cabin. To her lap, rechecking the cup holders, adjusting the rearview to investigate the backseat- but nothing. They didn't appear until her gaze, in defeat, fluttered to Loki.

"Hey!" She wrested the mainour from his head. His eyes opened, pupils reacting to the sudden light.

He mimicked her tone, "Hey!" He blocked the incoming sun with his forearm, sitting up in the process. Jane slid her aviators into place. "Give them back," He grabbed for them.

"They're mine, you shouldn't be stealing them-" They each held half of the sunglasses and grappled for them.

"You weren't using them." He argued, yanking the steel thread.

"Neither were you- you were sleeping!" She pulled against his resistance. Stress from the inane tug-of-war snapped the glass and frame. Jane looked at her half, perched in angry disbelief. She let go a chuffed bark, "Great. You broke my only pair of sunglasses." The fragmented promise of shade from glare was tossed in the back seat to rest with sundry bags.

"It was your fault!" Loki raised his voice.

His outburst worked her up to frenzy, "Excuse me? You're the one who stole them from the case! I can't believe you would accuse me of breaking my own sunglasses-" She continued her rampage.

Since she paid no attention to him, she hadn't heard him tell her, "Stop." He had to repeat the four letters, louder and louder until she took notice. "Pull over!" His idiolect pressed urgency over his usual haughtiness. He flushed, skin tone mixing into a feverish grey. Immediately her voice died down and the car decelerated.

Jane's derision was traded for anxious confusion. Loki braced his stomach and flung his hand to grip the handle above the window. He grunted, and he unbuckled to open the door while the speedometer still registered at ten mph. Jane failed to snatch him before he rolled out.

She slammed on the brakes, pulling off the vacant road. Her car door creaked as she rushed out to the aching Loki in a ditch. He was writhing, prone, and clutching at his side.

"What do I do?" Jane impatiently queried, not knowing. Kneeling beside him, she pulled up his shoulders and lifted his shirt. For some time the wound was leaching blood and pus. The bandages were filched by fast fingers, unraveled during his clenched jaw moans. The gash seemed fairly healed with deep scar tissue evolving in the place of ripped skin, leaving the open injury the size of a hacky sack. Jane tossed the sullied gauze, "I'll be right back."

In the trunk was the first aid kit. In the first aid kit was two fifty milliliter bottles. In the fifty milliliter bottles was hydrogen peroxide and medicinal alcohol; just what she needed to disinfect his wound. The hatch was left ajar and Jane went to the backseat. She ruffled through her overnight bag finding her least favorite shirt; at last second she seized the frame of the broken sunglasses and a bottle of water.

When she returned, Loki was dry heaving in an attempt to vomit, but there was nothing in his stomach. Jane rolled him onto his back and removed his shirt completely. She tore the sleeve off the shirt and poured the entire bottle of the hydrogen peroxide onto the cloth. She damaged the sunglass frame further by fracturing pieces until there was one sliver of straight metal. Miniature sparks zipped off the asphalt when she briskly scrubbed the metal against it. Her hand slipped twice, scraping skin from her knuckles, but the makeshift needle was complete. It was sanitized by rubbing the cloth against the needle.

Jane bit the border of the shirt, unthreading the hem with her canines. The string was tightly knotted to the needle. She set the tools aside. The other sleeve was soaked in the alcohol, diminishing its contents by one half. Jane squeezed Loki's hand and warned him, "This is going to sting."

Loki found her eyes and nodded, sharply exhaling through his nose. He was already in so much pain, Jane guessed he figured a little more was bearable. She released his hand and began cleaning out his wound with the alcohol sleeve. He wailed between his teeth and clenched Jane's bicep, tightening a death grip. She was determined not to yelp from his painful grasp. With a free hand she tried to swat his away to no avail. Not to be distracted, Jane continued washing out the blood and pus.

There was still some infection inside. Her cloth could only reach so far to help. She turned to the bottle of alcohol, concluding to pour it into the gouge.

Loki's hand traveled to her tank top strap, and he yanked her to his strained breath. He moaned susurrus babble, "Deposit… a… deposit to the- the left." He withstood his stare to her eyes.

"Okay." She shallowly stated. Jane retreated from his ferrous glare, green eyes brimming with intensity caused by agony. Shaky fingers sterilized and proceeded to dig inside him while he groaned from far more than discomfort. Jane felt somethingto the left; a hard ball latched to his flesh. The slimy growth freed problematically. It _moved _under her clutch and she reacted by yanking it from Loki's inside.

In her palm was an alien insect. Faintly it glowed with blood and pus. The bug screeched like an electronic cat. Jane shrieked in blunt surprise, throwing the creature to the road and falling to her back.

It scurried to its feet. The thing had the bulk of a baseball, and it was coated with Loki's coagulating gore and infection. Jane gawked at it in terror for it looked directly at her with four eyes and its pincers wriggled.

"Kill it!" Loki shouted.

Jane wildly scowled at him; her stare of bewilderment overcame by direct fierceness. She took the needle and ran to the organism. Bravery filling her instincts, she stabbed it through the midsection. High pitched squealing emitted from its silvery mouth. In an instant, the creature exploded, spewing its murky yellow insides onto Jane. Luckily, her mouth was closed.

The pain seemed to have subsided somewhat in Loki, so Jane took the time to wipe off with the torso of her ruined t-shirt. Gooey bubbles tingled her skin where the guts stuck. Rash like marks endured in the shapes of the eradicated entrails that had spattered her arms, neck, and chin. Jane resumed tending to Loki, treating the needle once more with alcohol.

She was still too stunned to speak, so she calmly emptied the remainder of the alcohol into Loki's side. He actually screamed. This gave Jane no sense of glee; she did not enjoy watching people in pain, no matter how evil they may be. Satisfied the wound was removed of any infection, she poised her needle and thread to sew it shut.

Halfway through zigzag stitches, Loki began to chuckle. Jane glowered, "How is _anything _that happened in the past ten minutes funny?"

"You killed it. With one bite from it, you would have been dead before you hit the ground." He smiled.

She couldn't see how that kept to logic, "It didn't kill you, and who knows how long it was in there. It was attached to you and you didn't die." She continued poking through his skin.

"You," he said matter-of-factly accompanied by a chortle, "are a Midgardian. Just some random mortal. I am a far superior being, therefore I am able to endure poisons such as those."

Jane huffed and deprived further treatment, "Look. I'm trying to be nice here-"

"So am I." He flashed an innocent guise. Obviously _some_one was feeling better.

"If you don't stop being a gigantic jackass, I'm going to turn you into the police."

"And how would that be any worse than being with you? I would find it a relief."

She tightened the final stitch with a tough jolt, making Loki's face twitch with a twinge of pain. The string was severed with a bite and tied into countless knots. She replied, "I wouldn't take the chance someone had friends or family in New York. So behave, or your fate is out of my hands."

"You think you control me, mortal? I host limitless power that can obliterate anything I wish to be destroyed." He sneered.

"And how has that worked out for you?" She adverted. The arrogant asshole dug himself a hole that was too deep to climb out.

Loki puffed, "I don't have to answer to you."

"Mm-hm." Jane grinned. The ditch was shallow but steep enough for her to lean against the grassy wall.

They looked at each other. Jane detected his initial hatred, but it bristled into something tougher. Like he put up a shield. This burled her brain to think that maybe, just maybe, there was another layer to him. This thought never occurred before, as she assumed he was a nasty, despicable monster committed to conquering everything. The monster might be the outer layer; created from years of doubt and hurt or disappointment. It could have been built on a foundation of neglect and blame. All those were sturdy milestones that could lead to hatred, like a gateway drug. Maybe he had something to prove. To himself or others, it didn't matter.

"What happened?" Sincerity flooded the question, smothering it.

For once, his sentence was serious, "I think we were attacked. My memories are shady, at best."

She hadn't meant in Asgard, she meant to him. What happened to make him like that. But finding out about Asgard and Thor was just as important.

Regarding her silence, he continued, "I remember that I was stabbed with a spear or sword dipped in a type of poison. The poison hosts one viable Torbita egg that hatches inside a victim and slowly drains them of all power until they waste away. It's commonly found in the rock trolls' underground lair. Seeing as we ran into one earlier, they must have attacked Asgard."

Jane recalled the hideous creature Loki identified as 'rock troll'. Gravel appearing like warts covered its face and its breath was the most atrocious, vile smell she ever sampled. Black eyes were sunken far into its brow, and were stereotypically ugly. She shivered.

"I suspect they created the illusion of the restaurant to fool you. Being of a minor intellect, it worked, and they hadn't expected me to be coherent. They wanted me alive." The ominous statement was cataloged into Jane's mind.

She helped Loki to the car, and squirreled the trash into her trunk. The god had fallen asleep, not passed out, and breathed normally. Jane pondered the residual moment where she was beginning to believe he wasn't all bad. Possibly, all he needed was a chance to do good and prove himself that way. She wondered if that opportunity would ever come to Loki. He was, after all, a monster as his outer self.

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_AN: So? Reviews are the only way I'll know what you think._


	4. Chapter IV

_AN: Sorry I didn't update yesterday. I meant to, but I kind of got distracted with drawing pictures of Jane in a heavy parka while Loki throws snowballs at her. Also, I find disclaimers on this site redundant. Seriously, we're uploading to a website called_ **_fanfiction_**_. Fiction by fans of stuff. So we already don't own any characters, and anyone who wants to read a fanfic should know so. Anyway..._

_Disclaimer: I don't do disclaimers. They're a waste of space (hypocritical after writing this, I know)._

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As midday reared its bright head, Loki was disgusted with himself. His plan had been going so well, until he slipped up.

The guile, in itself, was perfect. She was a sympathetic woman and a foolish mortal. Loki was well aware of her agitated looks when he muttered nonsense like "no", or "please", or "stop" in his faux sleep. He added in a small amount of diluted infuriation when he regarded her, something she had interpreted as angry charm. Adding some exaggerations of his pain, though it was quite tremendous, she was wrapped around his finger.

Then she talked him in a circle. _She _talked _him _into a circle.

Reviewing the scene in his head, Loki blamed his aberrant actions on blood loss, or perhaps mental strain from the leeching poison. Either way, he had never before been talked into a circle by some petty mortal. The fact that Thor's pet was the offender enraged him even further.

That was part one of his idiocy.

It all unfolded to the largest mistake he thought he ever made; he wavered. In the midst of all that went wrong, his hatred wavered for the time it takes to blink. Apathy, boredom, the general monotony of speaking to mortals; it didn't matter what his hatred shifted into for the harmful flash across his face. He couldn't take it back. The mortal had begun to study his eyes, calculating a response for his stupidity. Out of expectant answers, "What happened?" was not what he imagined. It gave him a chance.

Loki felt he needed to win her back, so he told the truth of his faint memories and the Torbita. She was a surprisingly good listener and easy to speak to with the truth. He credited that to her because Thor was in trouble with all of Asgard, not that she really wanted to listen to him. Hardly anyone would sit to hear what he said.

He reached these thoughts and conclusions when the mortal's vehicle passed a sign- _Welcome to New York: the Empire State._

"Mortal," He was slightly gruff, zipping up the extra-large sweatshirt he was given, "you are taking me to New York?"

She yawned, "Yep."

"Presumably to what are called 'Avengers'." He dreaded the moment where he would come face to face with Stark, who was only formidable in his suit, or the green monstrosity. The others were irrelevant.

Her silence was taken as a 'yes'. Loki knew there was no time left; he had to cut and run to wait until his power returned. Or he could strike a bargain with her; she was easily mislead, and with the correct persuasive words…

"What do you expect to do about Asgard when I'm in the custody of the mortals?" He shifted from his dozing position to face her upright.

She kept her eyes on the road, slowing for traffic, "I don't know. I guess I'll find out when I turn you in." She yawned again, her shoulders desperately needing a stretch.

"I don't think even your precious Avengers will be able to do something about it. Not without me."

The mortal seemed fully disinterested, turning her left blinker on to drive into the parallel lane, "Oh, and why's that?"

"How would you get there?" It was her million dollar question. Loki knew she would want to be involved by her affiliation to Thor. She would insist on it.

She answered with the same demand, "How would you get there?"

"The same way I travelled to Midgard." Could she be so blind? Loki reminded himself he was conversing with an ignorant Midgardian mortal; to presume anything more was imprudent.

The mortal was intrigued by his statement. The purple sags under her eyes seemed to lift in her interest, but she contrived nonchalance. Her heart was throbbing in her chest when she spoke, "And how did you?" The query sounded half completed, but Loki felt he had her on a rope.

Loki pulled himself closer to her. Tight lips hovered barely an inch from her ear. A deep atmosphere created dark mystery that surrounded his lithe voice. One word glided from his gilded throat, "I-"

He was cut off by ringing. A shrill cadence emanated from the mortal's cellular device. She held up her index finger, "Hold that thought." The silver cartridge was ensnared from her purse after a brief rummage through the junk. Loki scoffed, sitting back.

"Erik! I am so relieved to hear from you." Foster relaxed while talking to the deep garble on the other line. Loki listened at the possibility of gleaning information; of what, he didn't know.

"Yeah yeah, he's uh, right next to me, actually." She glanced at Loki, who was their main point of exchange, "I don't think he can at the moment, although I'd like to think it's because I'm so charming."

The man's voiced fuzzed into existence, but remained indiscernible by Loki.

"Sorry, I was just- we're headed to New York. Yeah, well, I just thought- Erik, if I took him to the police or the hospital- yes, the hospital. No I'm not." Loki awaited the end of the one-sided call. She chopped her sentences, as if her words weren't reaching the other side, "No. It's not like I have handcuffs! Erik. Erik, would you just listen to me? I'm taking him to New York and putting him in the custody of S.H.I.E.L.D. Well I'd love to, but I sure as hell don't have their number. That's an eighteen hour flight! Besides I can take care of myself. We're almost there, anyway. What, do you want to talk to him? Fine." She passed the phone to Loki saying, "I'm sure you remember Erik."

Loki received the device. He feinted putting it to his ear but snapped it shut, keeping his annoyed eyes on the mortal.

"Hey!" She took a hand off the steering wheel to grab it back. His window cracked and the phone was chucked into circulation of automobiles on the busy highway. The mortal elongated a gasp with wide eyes, "That's it." She exited the freeway to the curbside, stopping the car.

She shuffled through the bags in the back seat, and Loki watched. Thor's pet should have known better than to ignore him, just as he was to reveal tender knowledge. Mortals and their distractions. Loki rolled his eyes and mocked her in his head.

Foster withdrew a plastic gadget, but before he could make some rhetorical comment, she fired. Thin strings whipped the air and pierced Loki's chest, sending surges of jolts through probes. Intense shock bounced beneath his skin, and the entirety of his body tensed. His arms froze, arresting his muscles. An invisible wire strapped to his head and coiled to the nape of his neck. His shoulders hunched while he blacked out.

The pain from the electric shock was slight; simply immobilizing. His unconscious self was aware, unlike before, and he felt the flight of memory liftoff. The taste of freedom. The sight of defeat. The pang beneath his boots as he ran. A siege; a siege of Asgard. Was it raging yet, or had it ended?

Frigga's confidence, and her world-shattering disappointment. The concept controlled Loki, waxing his rage and frustration. This left him forlorn, scarring his face with tears that never dropped. He memorized the eyes confronting him; his mother's, clearly shouting "monster". And he ran.

… … …

The space where sun met shadow, under silhouette of clouds, the distinctive stripe diverged the worlds. It served as a finish line for the irrelevant race of a car pit against day. Idle time consumed by this pointless competition hardly satisfied boredom that cut into Jane's shiftlessness. Instead it manipulated a ghost to appear in her tedium; an incorporeal sentient desire. Her mind became a regular haunting ground, filled with unaccomplished needs.

Initially she had been pleased by the absent motion of Loki's tongue. Mordacious comments about nothing in particular had disappeared with his silence. Jane half-scolded half-praised her use of the gift from Darcy. How could she have thought handing Loki, god of mischief, her cell was a good idea?

Because it wasn't.

And he was about to reveal to her how he traveled between realms! How could she have thought rendering him unconscious was a good idea when he was going to tell her some of the most advanced knowledge in her time?

Although, to her credit, it was. Regarding the secret of interstellar voyage, she would ask once he woke. If he wasn't raging mad at her, which would be a most likely case.

Traffic headed into New York City jammed gridlock-style. Sleep deprivation egged her eyes to shut, only for a minute of worldly respite. Jane's head was hazed from eight cups of Starbucks and developing caffeine headaches. Floating specs swam in her line of sight without obstructing her view. The persistent camarilla told her to close her eyes; she didn't have to sleep, only rest her weary sight. Her eyelids did so without her command.

Imagination plagued her vision. What if Loki woke and murdered her on the spot? What if he escaped, intending on another attempt to rule Earth? What if he didn't' wake at all and she'd killed him?

She snapped out of the dazzling stupor and leaned to Loki's nose. Light cuffs of air reprised, his heart beat in his throat. Alive. For better or worse, he was alive. Jane could blunder through the remainder of the day, agitated and irritable without any notion of sleep, but her conscience had a clean slate. Tazing him didn't count, as it seemed necessary at the time. The more unconscious Loki was, the less trouble Jane was in.

Her ear lingered for the mellifluous breaths that beat from his lungs. Loki's current version of himself was peaceful, opposite of the stereotypical malicious beast. Childhood fears of monsters concealed in the closet echoed into the idea monsters occupied no time in slumber. They prowled at night, using vulnerability as a weapon, attacking young minds as they slept.

The spectacle of pure evil was fabricated to insist the world was black and white. This long con had seemed an accurate portrayal of the being inert in Jane's passenger seat, but that which she had seen on the news was different. Not that it mattered.

Jane was ushered forward by slow march of the truck ahead of her. There was a commotion; the holdup was more than rush hour. Sirens wailed, flashing ephemeral beams of blue and red. A fire truck far beyond what could be seen.

Traffic alleviated by way of detour, rerouting their initial way to the city. When Jane reached the scene, the red wagons hushed their alert. Firemen and police men alike circled smoldering wreckage. The hood of a station wagon bent in, like an asteroid hit it full speed. The car was totaled, but it appeared dumpy anyway. Jane watched, intrigued, while the congestion picked up. Stumbling upon the largest heap of luck she had, Jane slammed the brakes causing the sedan behind her to strike her bumper.

A gangly man, presumably the owner of the station wagon, sat on the edge of an ambulance. Tony Stark was talking to him. Stark was completely donned in his Iron Man armor; he must have hit the car. He scribbled something down and handed it over to the driver. The man didn't appear upset by the destruction of his car, but quite overjoyed, kissing the slip of paper. Stark patted him on the shoulder.

Jane abandoned her vehicle, sprinting between cars, jumping the road barrier- but for naught. Before she got to him, Stark took off. He left the ground for the sky, his end of the situation resolved. Her shouted attempt proved fruitless when the Avenger failed to hear her, "Wait!"

"You have _got _to be kidding." She stomped a hard heel on the asphalt.

Policeman R. Higgins, as his bronze nametag chastely announced, strode to Jane. His robust chest puffed out and he spoke through a thick chevron mustache, "What's the problem, ma'am?"

Jane thought he must look much different without the mustache. Probably not akin to his mustache-wielding self. Surprisingly, this sparked an idea. Jane forgot the questioning police man, returned to her car, and took off for the city.

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_AN: Hey you! Yes, you, in the back row. I'm talking to you, anonymous reviewer. I just wanted to say thanks 'cuz I can't PM you. Keep on reviewin'!_


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